Blood
by Alomoria
Summary: Jonathan, Jervis and Edward are ready to endure another day of group therapy when an unexpected visitor enlists their help in a new threat not only to them but all of Gotham. Based on an X-Files episode.


"Well _that_ wasn't very nice." Muttered the voice to his left. Jonathan Crane rolled his eyes slightly, thoroughly annoyed at the sentiment his supposed friend still had. He was a _villain_ and yet here he was, trying to cool the acerbic words Crane had just uttered about Riddler's current art project.

Tetch was always sticking up for _him_ , and it never ceased to annoy Crane.

"I'm not a very nice person, Tetch." Crane spat back, arms folded as he sat at the craft table. He abhorred "art"—well, when he was _forced_ to make it, that is. And Nigma's jumbled murmurings of how great his was going coupled with Jervis's humming _off key_ , Crane was quickly gaining a migraine.

"You're gon'na get your telly privileges revoked again, mate." Jervis lightly warned, easily shrugging off Jon's particularly cruel tones this morning. He was in a fairly good mood today for reasons beyond Jon's comprehension. Arkham rarely elicited any warm feelings in his opinion.

"I couldn't care less. Taking away my ability to watch the _drivel_ that is reality television is a blessing." Jon grumped.

"Whatever, you're just mad they didn't let you on _Fear Factor_ that one time." Edward snorted, not taking his eyes off his mosaic of cardboard in various colors. There was a lot a green however, and it soured Jonathan's mood even more on pure principle.

"Shut up Nigma." Jon snapped. Jervis sighed heavily and turned his disturbingly blue eyes at his snippy friend.

"It's only an hour-long session, and we're nearly half way through." Jervis put down his ink pen a moment and leaned back in his chair, looking more tired than usual. Jonathan's expression softened minutely. He knew Jervis had been having a few unpleasant dreams lately. Not _quite_ nightmares, but enough to make him rustle fitfully in his sleep. As cell neighbors, Jonathan had known of the development and felt…almost sorry for his friend.

He still thrived on fear, but he also had come to be fond of the little Hatter, so it was a mixed feeling to be sure.

"A half hour of some mindless creativity won't do you any more harm, mm?" Jervis finished with a lopsided smile. It wasn't a patronizing one, just a friendly—if tentative—gesture. Jonathan grouched the entire way through but managed to twist a dozen pipe cleaners into a colorful and fuzzy noose by the end of the session. Leland didn't think it was that funny, but then Jonathan had not meant it to be a joke.

It was now time for a horrible forty-five minutes of _group_ therapy. Jonathan hated these almost as badly. He did not like talking about his _feelings_ , his _inner struggles_ and _heartfelt desires_ with a bunch of **_insane_** people. _He_ was an insane person and quite fed up with _himself_ ; why would he want to be around more of the same?

Jervis skipped happily along the corridor as he, Jon and Edward were escorted to the room where Leland usually held the sessions. Jonathan wondered if it would be just them today or if the _Bobsey Twins_ (Harley and Joker) would join them along with _Two-Face-McGee_. Ivy was at large and Catwoman had been let out on good behavior—hopefully rehabilitated.

 _We'll see how long that lasts_ , thought Crane with a smirk as they rounded a corner.

As they filed into the usual room (with Nigma reciting horrible folk poems he seemed to have picked up to everyone's annoyance—this one was one of the _less offensive_ bits about dead children and deaf policemen…) one of the guards roughly shoved Jervis through the door before slamming it shut. Crane helped him regain his balance, regretting he was unable to exact quick vengeance on behalf of his most-of-the-time friend.

"I'm alright, Jonathan." Jervis murmured, straightening his shirt. Crane merely stood up straighter and crossed his arms.

"I didn't _ask_ how you were."

"Mmm…" Jervis simply hummed before daintily taking a seat beside Nigma, who had already made himself at home by kicking up his feet on the rickety plastic table. Jonathan thought the man had no manners whatsoever.

"Wonder what Joan's got planned for us today?" Nigma asked as Crane took the seat on his other side, brooding as he stared at the blank wall.

 _Grey. Always_ _ **grey**_ _in this blasted building…_

"I hope we can talk about something pleasant for once. Like…like " Jervis tried to think of an idea but Edward cut him off.

"Mass-mind-control and complete and utter mayhem for Gotham?"

" _Good heavens_ , no! I was thinking something along the lines of favorite tourist spots. I was reading the other day about the cherry blossoms in D.C. and I think that'd be just lovely to visit." Jervis sighed happily.

Jonathan made a noise between a disgusted snarl and a snort. " _Anywhere_ in the world you could hypothetically pick from, and you'd choose _flowers_."

"Well, I mean—"

"Eh stuff it, Tetchy. You've been spending too much time with Pam." Edward sniffed, leaning back on the chair, balancing on the back legs.

"Well? What about you lot then?" Jervis huffed. He was only making conversation and he had to be harassed even in that!

"Well…there's this old, supposedly haunted jailhouse in the Carolinas…" Jonathan began but he was interrupted by a faint but distinct crash some distance away.

Suddenly the lights flickered. The trio glanced up at the artificial florescent tubes above encased in plastic coverings—blotches of black could be seen against the light because whoever cleaned did not seem to think taking care of the dead insects within was worth the effort. Well, who _would_ really.

Crane crinkled his nose. He hated bugs.

The three's attention then shot to the door, where outside a faint yell was heard. They shared a curious glance, and then Jervis actually jumped in his seat with another shout that was quite a bit closer. Though sitting, they could still see through the glass window in the door that the lights down the hall were progressively going out.

Jonathan stood up gingerly, Edward and Jervis following his lead.

"Croc?" Jon muttered in question.

"No… _can't_ be, man. I saw 'im when I passed this morning. New drugs keeping him out like a light all day." Edward murmured back, adjusting his glasses in a nervous tic.

"Clayface?" Jervis ventured.

"I don't think so…his cell is on the other side. This section would be out of his way." Jonathan answered.

"Joker?" Edward ventured.

"Oh I doubt that…he was fairly preoccupied with aa cartoon on the telly when we left. He wouldn't miss that." Jervis reasoned.

Their ponderings were cut short when the last light outside their room was put out by a swift **_crash!_** and the sound of something—or someone—hitting a wall.

Not heroes nor _idiots_ , the three swiftly moved to the back wall. Their lone light inside flickered again before cutting off completely.

They were now in complete darkness.

"Jonathan!" Jervis's whisper squeaked.

"Shut up, Jervis! I'm trying to listen." Jon snapped.

There was a distinct whispering outside their room, just beyond the door. And then silence once more.

"What-?" Edward began but his question died in his throat when the lights flicked back on and there, at the cheap plastic table, sat Batman straight across from them.

"Gentlemen." His voice greeted, low but surprisingly devoid of anger. " _Have a seat._ "


End file.
